


Gristle and Gore

by scuttlingclaws



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, also some canon typical violence, but we got some imagery that involves drowning so if that's not your bag i'd skip, ngl eren isn't exactly my favorite character but he's so fascinating, ridiculously fun to write honestly, this has been rattling around in my brain for ages lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 14:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30023307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scuttlingclaws/pseuds/scuttlingclaws
Summary: He could feel the burn of his lungs as they cried out for air and he cursed them, cursed his selfish need to continue to breathe as if every breath he drew hadn’t already come at a heavy price. An Eren character study.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Gristle and Gore

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I wouldn't read this if you aren't caught up with the manga, we got some spoilers! This fic has something that's mentioned around chapter 115/116 I think? Not 100% sure

Memories felt like a pool. Eren was fully submerged within the confines of the experiences and memories of all the titan shifters before him - all the ones who had eaten each other until he, too, cannibalized his own father. It wasn’t always like that; when he first began having these experiences, these dreams through eyes that weren’t his, it felt more like a puddle - like he was lying face up as water seeped into his clothes. He laid there, feeling the slow turn from slightly damp to uncomfortably wet, as he soaked in bits and pieces of a past and future he never saw. It was becoming increasingly difficult to determine what had already happened and what was yet to be, let alone which of those experiences were even his own. As he grew older, and began to understand the nature of these visions, a gentle patter of rain had started above him, soaking him from both sides and causing the puddle to grow and grow until it became a river, then a lake, then the ocean he looked over with his comrades. 

Gentle rains of confusing memories had turned into raging storms the more Eren learned about himself, becoming a maelstrom of pounding droplets above the water’s surface the moment he made physical contact with the titan who had eaten his mother, Grisha’s first wife, and worsening still when he held Historia’s hand after the retaking of Shiganshina. Their royal blood was the catalyst for the dark clouds that now lingered above him, replacing the fluffy white clouds that once dribbled a slow, steady stream above him. He knew, now, that each and every raindrop contained within it a possible future and the knowledge terrified him. How could he be anything but paralyzed knowing that he held in his hands - the one part of his body that wasn’t stained with his comrades’ blood - the fate of his friends? Of every person he never met who just so happened to be born on the same island as him.

When he came to realize this, he struggled against the waves that pushed and pulled him, begging him to make his move. Eren kept his head below the surface of the water, despite knowing the futility of his battle against the ceaseless coming of the waves. He wanted to stop fighting so badly, to let the tides take him where they may; he could feel the burn of his lungs as they cried out for air and he cursed them, cursed his selfish need to continue to breathe as if every breath he drew hadn’t already come at a heavy price. If only he could hold his breath forever, keep the world at a stalemate for just a few more precious minutes and avoid making the decision that would undoubtedly lead to countless deaths. He convinced himself that the longer he kept himself submerged in the sea of what was, what is, and what would be he could prolong the uneasy peace before the inevitable conflict between Paradis and the entire world began in earnest. He lost track of how many times he had seen his friends, his family, his comrades meet their dooms, their once smiling faces covered in all manner of gristle and gore, forced to look into their lifeless eyes knowing that whether he chose action or inaction, the consequences were the same. While it had shocked him initially, once he had seen death ten, one hundred, one thousand times it began to lose its meaning. Images that once physically pained him no longer elicited more than a soft sigh of resignation - even the visions of children’s skulls crushed under debris no longer impacted him as deeply as they once had.

The gentle swell of affection he held for his friends, family, and countrymen was eventually worn down, eroded into angry, vengeful waves that crashed at the shore he could see just beyond the surface; the shore that forced him to choose between his people and the rest of the world. The love he held in his heart gave way to sorrow, then to anger, and finally, to bitterness. When the rage in his heart overshadowed the sorrow, Eren realized that he was not a helpless victim to a mindless tide; the push and pull he felt was not the ocean, but rather the desperate tugs of the hands of all the Eldians who were here with him, came before him, and would come after him. The ones who knelt before a keyhole and peered at him through it, frantic eyes looking to and fro, wondering whether or not this was the end for Eldia. They were begging him to move forward, to do anything but resign to the world’s hatred.

This was no longer about petty revenge or even his own loved ones. There was a larger enemy, one that would stop at nothing to destroy him and everyone on Paradis for the crime of being born. Even if, by some miracle, the Eldians managed to negotiate peace, would this same cycle not occur? Would they not still be persecuted on account of the world’s ignorance? All they ever wanted was to live in peace but the Marleyans had started the conflict by sending their fellow Eldians to kill them. Whether you were still a human or forcibly transformed into a titan, you were killing one of your compatriots - was that not the cruelest fate of all? What the world needed was to change and Eren knew he had to place his trust in himself; this was a burden he had to shoulder on his own. He couldn’t bear the thought of any more Paradisians dying on account of his indecision or, even worse, of his dear friends inheriting his titans. A mere thirteen years for the ones he held closest to his heart was unacceptable. As long as he was alive and able to do something about it he would. He would fight, fight until the end, using every last second of his final years to rage against the cruel world he was born into. By whatever means necessary he would ensure the survival of Paradis.

Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt must have thought themselves the raindrops to burst the dam, but all they had done was raise the water levels so that Eren could be the one to burst through it, just as they tore through the walls surrounding Shiganshina that fateful day. Zeke could scramble to sandbag the river as much as he pleased with his euthanasia plan, but it was no use; the wheels of fate turned before he was even born when their father had wandered outside of the internment zone, setting two brothers on opposing paths. They wouldn’t stay dry. Nobody would. Even Eren’s dearest friends from the Scouting Regiment, too, would find themselves soaked, drowned, and washed up ashore. But if Eren wasn’t willing to win by any means necessary, to sacrifice everything, the Eldians would never survive. Paradis needed a devil and if he needed to be that devil then, by the walls, he would do it; he would wear that title with all the pride he could muster for the sake of his people. His body was already stained red with the blood of the original Levi Squad and every other soldier who died for him on the orders of their superiors. The guilt weighed heavily on him, but he knew that he had to honor their sacrifice, prove to everyone that all of the fighting and all of the death was worth it. His life was no longer his own - he wasn’t sure if it ever was. He would soak his hands in the blood of whoever he needed to in order to procure the safety of his homeland and to give meaning to all of the brave soldiers who gave their lives for him on another’s orders.

Eren burst through the surface of the water, taking in a heaving, gasping breath, finally soothing the searing ache in his lungs. A single raindrop fell into his open mouth and suddenly the rain stopped completely, leaving him to gaze out at the dry shore before him. As he swam closer to it corpses began to rise to the surface of the water, bobbing alongside him. He ignored them, moving forward despite the resistance. He pushed them aside in his journey to the shore, doing all he could to avoid looking at the faces of the deaths he would be personally responsible for. The Eldians needed a devil. He would bloody his hands so that no other Eldian would have to make this choice, so that they could finally live the peaceful lives they all desired. No death would be in vain, even those of the Marleyans would serve a greater purpose.

As he dragged his weary feet across the shore, Eren looked out at the world before him with all of the affection a titan has for the human between its teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> if you feel so inclined come hang on twidder dot com you can find me @dsfedefender talking about Fire Emblem and Attack on Titan


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